answered him, in accents of profound surprise.

"Who is he?" the young man insisted, his tone growing heated. "And what
does he here and thus, with you? Gesu! What would his Highness say?
How would he deal with me were he to learn of this? Who is the man,
Madonna?"

"Why, as you see, Messer Gonzaga," she answered, with some heat, "a
wounded knight."

"A knight he?" gibed Gonzaga. "A thief more likely, a prowling
masnadiero. What is your name?" he roughly asked the Count.

Drawing himself a little away from Valentina, and reclining entirely
upon his elbow, Francesco motioned him with a wave of the hand to come
no nearer.

"I beg, lady, that you will bid your pretty page stand back a little. I
am still faint, and his perfumes overpower me."

Under the mask of the polite request Gonzaga detected the mocking,
contemptuous note, and it gave fuel to his anger.

"I am no page, fool," he answered, then clapping his hands together, he
raised his voice to shout--"Ola, Beltrame! To me!"

"What would you do?" cried the lady, rising to confront him.

"Carry this ruffian in bonds to Urbino, as is my duty."

"Sir, you may wound your pretty hands in grasping me," replied the
Count, in chill indifference.

"Ah! You would threaten me with violence, vassal?" cried the other,
retreating some paces farther as he spoke. "Beltrame!" he called again.
"Are you never coming?" A voice answered him from the thicket, and with
a clank of steel a half-dozen men flung themselves into the glade.

"Your orders, sir?" craved he that led them, his eyes wandering to the
still prostrate Count.

"Tie me up this dog," Gonzaga bade him. But before the fellow could move
a foot to carry out the order Valentina barred his way.

"You shall not," she commanded, and so transformed was she from the
ingenuous child that lately had talked with him, that Francesco gaped in
pure astonishment. "In my uncle's name, I bid you leave this gentleman
where he lies. He is a wounded knight whom I have been pleased to
tend--a matter which seems to have aroused Messer Gonzaga's anger
against him."

Beltrame paused, and looked from Valentina to Gonzaga, undecided.

"Madonna," said Gonzaga, with assumed humility, "your word is law with
us. But I would have you consider that, what I bid Beltrame do is in
the interest of his Highness, whose territory is infested by these
vagabonding robbers. It is a fact that may not have reached you in
your convent retreat, no more